Rho Event
The Great Catastrophe The first sign of the catastrophe came in the form of the most severe outbreak of ICD in human history. All over the habitat, people were dying or going insane. The fortunate ones simply fell to the ground, blood pouring out of their orifaces... for the rest, death came much more slowly. Some became violent, screaming and clawing at everyone they saw, with wild eyes that told of utter madness. Some crawled up into dark corners, rambling incoherently, entirely unresponsive to outside stimuli. After that, we were offered a brief respite. We pooled our resources. We managed to put down the violent ones and hospitalize the rest of the affected. It wasn't until the supply lines were interrupted that we understood that this wasn't some isolated incident. The shimmerling light in the sky from the local jump gate, several times more powerful than the moon, faded. Those of us that weren't already trying to get off the planet now joined in. Panic ensued, and what attempts that had been made to maintain the social order soon evaporated. The authorities had tried for a brief time to control the situation, but when their own security forces abandoned them, all hope of an organized evacuation was lost. Within the next few days, every single orbital transfer craft had taken off. Gangs now ruled the streets, armed with whatever weapons they had been able to loot, terrorizing the remaining populace on their crazed quest to find the location of secret orbital transfer craft that even didn't exist. Others—those with a perhaps less cynical, or some wound say more naïve, outlook—waited in their homes or by the spaceport for the departed craft to return to save them. In due time, however, all would realize that no one was coming back for us. What finally broke most was the emergency transmission from Earth. Earth was asking for help. If the center of all human cilivization couldn't weather the storm, then surely there was no hope for the rest of us. And then we saw it. At first no one would have noticed what appeared as just another star in the night sky. But it grew. Day by day, it swallowed another section of the sky with its blindingly white light. Now it's only a matter of weeks, or so I've heard. Not that it matters, because we won't make it til the end anyway. We're out of food and water. Can you imagine; this must surely be one of the most devestating events in history, and we're going to die the day -before- it turns our home into dust... I hope, whoever you are, that you still remember us... End recording. - Unknown transmission, picked up by a probe in Sector 6. Evacuee You were resourceful. You didn't wait to evaluate the situation, electing to get out at the first sign of trouble. Maybe you had a private orbital transfer craft, or you were fortunate enough to get access to someone elses. Maybe you were a high value citizen that was extracted on a government craft. Either way, you left the Core long before Rho reached your habitat. Citizenship: Autonomists: The Freehold Consortium, The Exchange: Any, Firewall: Junta Rescuee You were lucky. As society was collapsing around you, an angel swept in from beyond the stars and saved you. You managed to survive the immediate turbulence following the ICD outbreak and the collapse of the jump gate network. Maybe you holed up in your home, or maybe you raided those of others. Whatever the case, you were successfully extracted from your habitat by a rescue mission from the sectors. Polity: Autonomists: The Unionist Pluralities, Exogenesis: Sanguis, Firewall: Junta Infugee You were desparate. As your final act, you transmitted yourself as a data stream via a farcasting facility. This act was as bold as its outcome uncertain; there was no guarantee that anyone would receive the signal, and even if they did, there was no telling what they would do with it. You also risked having your signal corrupted, as often happens with radio waves due to the background noise of the universe itself. Lastly, even if you were to arrive to a safe harbor with a seemingly intact transmission, chances are that the person that emerged on the other side wouldn't be the same—the subtle yet relentless impact of ICD on farcasting were well known even during this time. Most farcasts were lost, but you made it. After years, maybe even decades, your signal was intercepted. Maybe you spent equally long in cold storage; tucked away in a server somewhere, waiting for reactivation. Maybe you spent time in simulspace, toiling away at some mundane task while trying to earn enough favor with your host to purchase a physical body. Maybe your host had no ill intent, but merely didn't have the space or resources to sleeve you straight away. Whatever twists and turns your story took, you were eventually resleeved into a physical body and thus had the opportunity to start your life anew. Polity: Alien, Autonomists: Any, The Exchange: Any, Exogenesis: Any, Firewall: Mandate __NEWSECTIONLINK__